Vongola's Legacy
by platinumheart021
Summary: He appeared one stormy night - malnourished with cuts and bruises littering his frail body. That's how Vongola's Secondo appeared before them. His name was Sawada Tsunayoshi. R&R give me some love.


Chapter One:

Of Storms and Stables

It was a rather stormy night, with the winds howling and thunder cracking when the old butler of the Vongola Famiglia answered the knock on the oak door. His physique was quite frail and his face held an elderly softness to it; yet, it was the old butler's eyes that promised deep knowledge and danger that earned him one of the highest positions a servant could have in a mafia Famiglia as strong as the Vongola.

When the old man's steely grey eyes locked on to the wet stable boy on the other side of the thick door, his lips thinned out into a straight line. It was utterly disgruntling for the butler to see one of Vongola's own servants look so devastatingly disheveled. Appearances were everything in the underworld; having the best of the best of everything (servants included) was a complete must to earn respect. Therefore, Fabri could not believe the insolence in which Norberto Meglio had to actually show up at the doorstep of the great mansion looking like a wet dog.

"Norberto," The raspy voice of Nazzaro Fabri pierced through the pouring rain straight into Norberto's petrified soul, "Pray tell why you look like a rabid animal ravaged by a waterfall."

Eyes widening to the size of dinner plates, "I am awfully regretful of my current state Mr. Fabri, sir, however there is something that requires your immediate attention at this precise moment if you could, sir."

The poor stable boy was greatly surprised at his voice for holding on strong. He thought he would've stuttered himself to death due to not only the intense cold of the rain and wind but also from the penetrating stare of his superior. He could feel the squelch of the mud that has worked its way – along with the rain – straight into his shoes as he waited with baited breath for the butler to acknowledge his request.

With a sigh, Nazzaro quickly donned on his raincoat and a hat as he gestured for the boy to show him what was so important he actually walked through the storm without any shield from the harsh elements.

"Sir, before we get to our destination, I would just like to inform you that I have absolutely no clue as to how this problem happened." Norberto semi-shouted to the old man under his already drenched coat from the pelting storm.

Nazzaro only graced him with an annoyed, albeit curious glance before they continued on to the stable where this _problem_ was. He wanted this over and done with as quickly as possible as to attend to the masters' matters for the next day.

Upon arrival, the butler noticed with interest that the stable boy had tried to clean his face with his soaking sleeve. _He's doing that now?_ Was the only thing running through the butler's mind. The stable boy didn't even do that when he was facing his superior.

"So? What's the urgent matter I just had to attend to?" Nazzaro was honestly quite impatient as of that moment. He just walked through mud and rain, sullying his shoes all for this apparently urgent matter.

Norberto swallowed a lump in his throat as his heart thundered on in his chest. "Please don't be alarmed or make any sudden movements, sir, please." He squeaked out.

Ignoring the childish part of him in which he just had to roll his eyes, Nazzaro Fabri nodded solemnly at the boy. The quicker they do this without arguments, the better.

With quick steps, Norberto went deeper into the stable with Nazzaro hot on his heels. He stopped outside the empty stall where there was no horse or any living animal residing inside it. With one final look at the butler, Norberto slowly pushed the door open and revealed what got him into one big mess.

At first, Nazzaro didn't see it. Though when he did, he took in a single sharp breath and stared straight at Norberto with nothing but a promise of pain.

"Please, sir. I found him lying in the mud just right outside the forest grounds as I was making my rounds. He was in such a sickly state with cuts and bruises and a malnourished form that I knew I needed to help him." His voice was nothing but a weak whisper, pleading his superior with his entire being to understand why he rescued the little boy.

The old butler suddenly took a couple of steps and hissed straight onto Norberto's face, "This boy could be a spy sent here either as bait or as secret intelligence by an enemy Famiglia. Do you understand the danger you've put the family in, Norberto Meglio?"

Nazzaro looked at the huddled silhouette of the boy. He was covered in Norberto's raincoat and many blankets, thus covering his features from the two completely.

"We need to get rid of him now." The old man said in a resolved voice.

He would not allow a single child or any life form to harm the great Vongola Primo and his guardians as long as he still breathed. He thought that was the case with all of the servants that served under Giotto and his guardians but apparently he was wrong.

Nazzaro watched in great offense as the scrawny stable boy stood in front of the child with his arms spread out in defense.

"N-no." Damn, he stuttered. Norberto watched in impending horror as the old butler's face morphed into anger. The boy was already quaking in his ruined shoes and there was an obvious tick on his upper lip. He was beyond terrified. "Please, you don't understand, this boy is not normal under any circumstances, if you would just take a minute and –"

He was cut off by an agonized groan reaching their ears and by the heat licking at their cold skin.

Sharply turning to where the sound came from, Nazzaro's eyes widened at the sight before him. The blankets were laying haphazardly all around the stall as if they were kicked violently away by the little boy. In return, this meant that Nazzaro could see the features in which the boy possessed and what greeted him was certainly not what he expected.

Because there, laying on some hay meant for the horses was a little boy seven years of age (at least that's what he thought the child's age was), with disheveled brown hair and facial contours only his master possessed. But that wasn't what almost made the butler loose his balance, because something just had to be the icing on the unforgiving cake that was life.

There on the little boy's forehead was non-other than the rare sky flame any mafia Famiglia would die to get their hands on. And it was burning brightly under the dimly lit building.

 **I don't own KHR.**


End file.
